Odd
by words of magick
Summary: Lysander was not the typical sort of boy. He did not worry about what was ‘cool.’ He did not try to fit in. He was his very own person. He was what you would call ‘special.’ Lysander/Lily


**AN: So this was written for a challenge. I rattled it off in a few hours. I was inspired. :)**

**Let me what you think!**

**Constant Vigilance!**

**magick**

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_Odd_

Lysander was not the typical sort of boy. He did not worry about what was 'cool.' He did not _try_ to fit in. He was his very own person. He was what you would call 'special.'

He never was one for sticking to a specific stereotype. If he wanted to be Slytherin-like one day, he would dress in green and do cunning, manipulative things. If he desired to be courageous and daring, he would don Gryffindor colours and strut about enchanting suits of armour and dueling them. If he wished to take upon airs and brown-nose a bit, he would hide out in the Library and study for hours on end about whatever in royal blues with the stuffed badger he brought along with him.

However, he was a Hufflepuff through and through. Honest, trustworthy, and loyal to a fault. He was also a fair bit odd. (As if his _acting_ the part of a Slytherin, Gryffindor, or Ravenclaw wasn't enough of a sign.)

He talked to himself in the corridors. He sought strange creatures that no one believed in except for the die-hard _Quibbler_ fans. He had an unhealthy interest in Herbology that even rivaled Professor Neville Longbottom's. He visited the thestrals on purpose and fed them raw meat on a regular basis. (He couldn't even see them.) Need I remind you that he dressed up to pretend to be a part of other Houses?

His parentage wasn't of much help either. Being the son of Rolf Scamander, strange-creature-follower extraordinaire, and Luna Lovegood-Scamander, editor-in-chief of _The Quibbler_, there wasn't really much hope in the genetics department. The ironic thing was that his identical twin Lorcan was as normal as they came. (How that happened, no one quite knew.)

The only thing that made him normal was the fact that he _did_ have friends; and one quite good one, in fact. This one happened to be none other than Lily Luna Potter, youngest child to the saviour of the Wizarding world.

Sixteen years. For sixteen years, Lysander and Lily have been best friends. Since birth, they were inseparable. They knew everything about each other; there were no two closer people in the world than Lysander and Lily.

However, Lysander did have one secret he dared not tell anyone, _especially_ Lily.

There were quite a lot of hints at this secret of his, but most were too self-absorbed or stupid to see it. Rose Weasley – Lily's second closest friend in the entire world – had inkling, but she was far too busy with first-year Healer training and her boyfriend Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy and living up to her parents' expectations to do any further research. Lily's older brother James knew too, but he was unfortunately too swamped with his intense studies of the differences of magical abilities in Wizarding creatures, such as the common house elf and the occasional goblin, compared to witches and wizards. (He was the studious one of the Potter offspring; Albus was quite the opposite as the resident sex symbol of the Wizarding world.) The last person to have some kind of hunch was Lorcan. However, he was too stuck on himself to help out his only brother.

Now, if it isn't obvious, this secret of Lysander's was that he was deeply, madly and irrevocably in love with his best friend.

And she was entirely clueless to this fact!

Time and time again, his face would begin to burn when she kissed his cheek in a way she had for years. But it was only recently – roughly three months, one week, four days, and nineteen hours – that Lysander had come to terms with the fact that he loved her. That unsettled him deeply.

He found it difficult to concentrate when they sat next to each other in their shared classes. (Lily, clearly, was a Gryffindor.) When they went to Hogsmeade and she would tug on his hand to take him wherever she wanted to go, his mouth went dry and his forehead broke out in a sweat. Sometimes, when Lysander caught other blokes eyeing lovely Lily from afar, he would begin to growl, of all things! She was quite beautiful in a wild sort of way and it was hard not to stare, but it was ridiculous that Lysander had _growled_ at these mere appreciative glances! This love thing was going to take him straight to the loony bin if his already-odd actions didn't put him there first.

Finally, after six agonising days contemplating the decision to tell Lily or not, Lysander decided: he was going to take the plunge into the deep, dark and somewhat scary lake of love. There was no going back now.

Still, Lysander didn't quite know how to go forward.

Lysander spent another entire day wondering how he could possibly declare his undying devotion to his best and oldest friend. After these twenty-four straight hours of careful consideration without a wink of sleep, Lysander decided he would wing it. (Evidently, his deep thinking served him well.)

Sleep-deprived and nervous beyond belief, Lysander sat beside Lily, bedecked in Gryffindor spirit for his hopefully soon-to-be ladylove, on this particular non-Hogsmeade Saturday for brunch. It seemed like today – Declaration Day as Lysander had began to call it in his mind – the entire school decided to come to brunch. Lysander was quite lucky to have so many people either see him crash and burn miserably or rise to the heavens in exultation.

The pair had just finished their brunch and were about to leave, Lily leading the way, when Lysander reached out boldly and rested a slightly clammy hand upon her freckled forearm.

She turned to face Lysander, looking at him expectantly. Lysander gulped and took a step closer.

He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out.

He was beginning to drown in her dark eyes.

Closing his mouth and clearing his throat uncomfortably, Lysander re-prepared himself.

And then…nothing.

Feeling ever eye on him, Lysander thought he would begin to go into a catatonic state. Bloody hell, he was the kid who never ever _ever_ cared what others thought of him, but now – _now_ that was all that he could think of. All those people, ready to start ridiculing him the very moment those words came out of his mouth: I'm in love with you.

He couldn't do it. He just couldn't!

Finally, after a solid three minutes of standing there in the middle of the Great Hall, Lily took some initiative.

She looked at him with a smouldering look. It spoke volumes more than Lysander had ever been able to articulate.

Taking this as a sign, he took her face in his hands roughly and pressed his lips against hers. She emitted a short squawk, caught completely off-guard by Lysander's abruptness. The awkward, yet pleasant, initial feel of his lips on hers sent Lily into a frenzy.

She began to eagerly respond to the kiss, her hands finding themselves on his mid-back, clenched, nails gripping his cotton t-shirt. His hands traveled up into her wild, untamable hair, mussing it up even more so.

They were in the middle of the Great Hall for everyone to see them attack each other with an intense, but animalistic, sort of passion.

No doubt, their rather violent display of affection would scar many minds present in the Great Hall.

But they carried on despite this detail.

Cat-calls were starting and professors began to take offense.

Finally noticing the presence of her classmates and professors, Lily pulled away from the boy _she_ had loved for four months, three weeks, six days, and nine hours.

She looked around and blushed. The blush slowly faded before her gaze zoned in on the one person who mattered.

Her hands on her hips and her lips quirked in the beginning of a smile, she was quite amused. "So this means you're my best friend _and _boyfriend now, right?"

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**AN: Ta-da! R & R lovelies!**


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